


My Black Smile

by vaguesalvation



Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguesalvation/pseuds/vaguesalvation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sungmin gets a twitter. Yesung stakes a claim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Black Smile

“I don’t know why you want one of these, anyway,” Yesung says, slipping behind Sungmin on the bed and wrapping his arms around Sungmin’s waist, “I mean, isn’t the site primarily used by American teenagers? You can barely speak two sentences in English.”

Sungmin hums and leans back against Yesung’s chest. He types his name carefully in roman letters in the designated box, smiling at the cute little bird at the top of the page. He hasn’t spent much time on twitter, just a few minutes when Shindong first showed him the site, but he finds now that he quite likes it. Its graphics are bright, colorful, fitting of his image.

“Donghae has one now too, you know?” he asks, tossing a look over his shoulder where Yesung’s forehead is pressing into his back. “He’s been posting pictures of himself about every hour.”

“I’m sure Kibum loves that,” Yesung replies, whispering into Sungmin’s shirt.

Sungmin ignores the unmasked sarcasm. “Maybe if Kibum was around more Donghae would have something better to do with his time.”

Yesung lifts his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips that Sungmin is both familiar with and decidedly unfazed by. “I bet we could find something better for you to do.”

Sungmin rolls his eyes and turns back to his computer, ignoring the hands that slip under the hem of his oversized t-shirt. He puts his fingers back to the keys and is just about to fill in the box for his “bio” when his body jerks, his muscles contracting in reaction to the sharp tug at his earlobe by Yesung’s teeth. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a shaky breath.

“Hyung,” he warns, shivering when Yesung pulls away just enough to blow cool air across the abused flesh.

“You could even take pictures, if you wanted,” Yesung whispers, scratching at the sensitive skin over Sungmin’s hipbones. “And then you could post them, give the American fans something to brag about. We could tell management it was an accident.”

Sungmin bites his bottom lip and tries to force his heart rate back to something resembling a normal, more fluid rhythm. Yesung kisses just behind his ear, a spot that had just recently become visible again after the stylists decided to cut his hair for the new album. Earlier today he had been happy for the change, excited that he would no longer have to constantly brush his hair off his neck. Now, he kind of misses its protection.

Wrapping his fingers around Yesung’s wrists, he pulls Yesung’s hands out from under his shirt and twists his body around. He narrows his eyes at Yesung, hoping the expression is more intimidating than his harsh breathing must be. “If you don’t stop teasing me, I won’t get a twitter at all and your plans will be over before you can even start them, and then I will be angry and you won’t get sex until you can find a way to make it up to me.”

There’s a moment of silent tension, broken when Yesung pulls his hands from Sungmin’s grip and scoots back on the bed. “You play dirty.”

Sungmin only smiles and goes back to his computer. The room is filled with the sound of his typing and of Yesung’s shifting to get more comfortable on the bed. Sungmin fills in the rest of his information quickly, but when he gets to the last box he stops, pursing his lips in contemplation.

“What is it?” Yesung asks after a long pause.

“I don’t know what my username should be.” He turns to look at Yesung, who has spread out lazily behind him, one arm bent under his head, the other thrown across his stomach.

“Just use the same one you have for cyworld.”

Sungmin shakes his head. “It has to be Romanized. I feel like it should be something in English.”

“Donghae’s is just his name, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s boring. I’m supposed to be using this to connect with people, you know? How much does my name really say about me?”

Yesung reaches over to rub his back. “I think your name is pretty.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re only saying that because I’m annoyed with you.”

Sighing, he sets his laptop next to him on the bed and pulls his legs up to his chest. He curses his need for perfection, its extreme demand for his obligation. This isn’t even all that important, just a name to use for himself on the internet. His parents will probably never even know about it, and the company will only check it a few times to make sure he’s not doing anything inappropriate. It’s not that important.

“Here, let me see it,” Yesung says, reaching for the laptop. Sungmin shoves it across the bed with his foot and watches Yesung pull it onto his stomach and stare at the screen for a long moment.

“Don’t read my information,” he says, though he knows that’s exactly what Yesung is doing and that he won’t do anything about it.

“Please, like there’s anything I don’t already know about you,” Yesung retaliates, lifting his arms at an awkward angle to type. After a minute, he seems satisfied. “There.”

Sungmin shifts so that he’s sitting against the headboard, his hip next to Yesung’s head on the pillow. He motions at Yesung to give him the laptop back, pushing the screen back a little when it’s balanced on his knees again.

“…my black smile?”

Yesung nods, obviously pleased with himself. “It’s cool, you know? Like, morbid.”

Sungmin doesn’t really know what to make of the name. He bites at the inside of his cheek and reads it again. Nope, no better. “It makes me sound like a thirteen-year-old with scurvy.”

Yesung scoffs and lifts himself up so he’s sitting too. “It does not.”

Sungmin shakes his head and goes to say something about Yesung being delusional, but the words get caught in his throat when Yesung leans over him again. He suddenly feels surrounded, his thoughts washed away by the scent of Yesung’s cologne, the feel of hot breath against his neck when Yesung says, “I think it’s kind of sexy. Dark, like your hiding something.”

He’s aware of Yesung’s arm reaching over him to get to the keyboard, but he can’t bring himself to stop the hand that brushes his fingers off the keys. “If you like it so much, you use it then.”

“But I want it to be yours,” Yesung breathes against his skin, “it’ll be like our own little secret. Like the bruises on your hips that no one sees, or the way your voice breaks when I suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he gasps, letting his eyes fall closed when Yesung’s teeth graze the junction between his neck and shoulder. He reaches up to thread his fingers through Yesung’s hair, grips the soft strands tightly and tilts his head to the side to give Yesung more room to bite and suck at his skin.

“Wait,” he says when Yesung slides the laptop off his thighs and onto the bed. He isn’t done with it yet. He still has to confirm his account information.

“Shh, it’s already done,” Yesung whispers, sliding his hand up the back of Sungmin’s leg. Sungmin wonders when Yesung grew so many hands.

He’s more than willing to comply with Yesung’s tugging on his knee, swinging his leg over Yesung’s hips and twisting his head to fit their lips together. He moans into the kiss, his head swimming and his heart pounding in his chest. He isn’t used to being so affected by another person. He’s the one that affects others.

“I’m going to change the name,” he says, because Yesung is too smug and Sungmin doesn’t want to feed the ego any more.

Yesung chuckles against his lips, rocking their hips together. Sungmin gasps again and doesn’t even argue when Yesung says, “No, you won’t.”


End file.
